In Sickness and In Health
by Patano
Summary: Three of Sybil and Tom's first Christmases, during which nothing could keep them apart. Written for JessieBess as part of Sybil/Tom Secret Santa Fic Exchange. Now up Chapter 3 - Bransons' first Christmas with their daughter in 1920.
1. Christmas 1913

_Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year from me to the lovely and talented_ **JessieBess!**

 _I'm sorry for the slight delay, but I wasn't feeling well enough to finish your gift yesterday, so I chose to wait until I feel a bit better to do everything properly._

 _In exchange, I can tell you that while I was writing this piece, I decided to change my initial conception and instead of one chapter divided into three time planes, you'll get three separate chapters on three Christmastide days! The three one-shots will be self-contained, but will form an interlinked whole too._

 _Since you didn't specify when you wanted Sybil's first Christmas with Tom to be set, I decided to explore three of S/T's "first Christmases" - their first Christmas at Downton, their first Christmas as a married couple and their first Christmas with their daughter. I hope that you enjoy this fic and once again I want to wish you all the best!_

 _ **In Sickness and In Health**_

 **Downton Abbey, Christmastide 1913**

Sybil didn't want to admit it, but she was impatient for the Servants Ball that year. Finally, she decided not to pretend anymore and stopped convincing herself that the forthcoming special event at Downton wouldn't be different for her from the previous ones. After all, she at last had a male friend with whom it would be really great to dance and spend the evening with. There was nothing strange in that, wasn't it?

Not to mention that she really liked to spend time with Branson, and trying to find some opportunity to talk to him on everday basis was not an easy task. There was nothing unusual about wanting to talk to someone who was really her kindred spirit (in the platonic sense of this expression as meant by Anne Shirley, of course!). No, there definitely wasn't. Everyone was entitled to have friends, and Sybil couldn't care less about her friends' social status.

The day of the Servants Ball finally came, and Sybil followed her family to the main hall with a pleasant anticipation of a lovely evening. She had always loved Servants Ball more than other parties that her parents usually hosted because it was far less stiff and somewhat less artificial, like once in a year all pretense and appearances broke down and people could abandon imposed rules and divisions for one evening. Everything was finally all about companionship, not first and foremost making the right impressions.

Sybil immediately began to search for Branson among the people who had gathered for the ball. She felt a first stab of panic when she couldn't notice him with the rest of downstairs party, but decided to compose herself and wait a bit longer before declaring the evening to be a disappointment. Maybe he needed to stay a bit longer at the garage to finish his work?

Minutes passed and the family chauffeur didn't appear to Sybil's silent despair. What was worse, she was completely at a loss of what she should do - asking someone about him would inevitably raise suspicions, but waiting in a state of doubt was definitely not how she wanted to spend the otherwise celebratory evening.

Suddenly, an idea crossed the young woman's mind. She would ask about Branson her other downstairs friend, Gwen. Even if Gwen discerned Sybil's special interest in the prospect of Branson appearing at the ball, she would definitely not betray this to anyone else. Sybil relished in the thought that there were people in this world in whose company she didn't have to restrain herself and approached the ginger-haired maid, who had just finished dancing with William.

"Hello, Gwen, hello William. Can I talk with you for a moment?" Sybil asked the young housemaid.

"Of course. Is this something about my job-search, milady?" Gwen 's voice sounded a bit apprehrensive.

"No, but please don't be dissappointed. I don't think that we'll hear from anyone until Christmas time is over," the youngest Crawley girl reassured her friend.

"You're totally right, milady. It's just that... Finding this job is really important for me."

Sybil smiled broadly. "Of course. But we've just started, so we're far from being defeated at this moment. What I want to talk to you about... Gwen, where's Branson? Maybe he doesn't approve of regular upstairs parties, but he should like the idea of people of various classes celebrating together... I thought that he would make an appearance even if he didn't like dancing, if only because of the idea..."

Gwen chuckled. "Milady, not everything about Branson is about making a statement, and the reason for his absence is very prosaic... he's caught a cold and went to his cottage early."

"Oh! So that's the reason..." Sybil stuttered. "I'm only asking because... I haven't seen him for such a long time, and that's why I was worried..."

Gwen smiled knowingly, but didn't remind Sybil that if anything had happened to the Irishman, the whole household would have discussed the matter throughly already.

"Does anyone send for the doctor or checked that he has everything?" Sybil resumed the conversation; the tone of her voice was worried, even though she tried to make it sound matter-of-factly.

The housemaid shook her head. "There was no need for the doctor. It's not a bad cold, though he had no doubts that he shouldn't go to the ball. He couldn't risk a more serious illness. But he did sound disappointed about skipping the ball, milady," Gwen asserted and looked at Sybil pointedly.

"I suspect it's the first time he had a chance to attend an event like this. Not all big houses cultivate this tradition," Sybil responded calmly, though her mind was mostly processing what Gwen had said about Tom being really disappointed about not attending the Servants Ball.

At that moment, Gwen was approached and asked to dance by Cousin Matthew, so the two young women ceased talking. While Sybil had good relations with Matthew, she still preferred that he would not know about her friendship with the Downton's chauffeur. As such, Sybil quickly excused herself and approached the table in order to pretend that she was eating (she wanted to avoid anyone asking her to dance for the time being).

She felt that she needed to do something. The thought that Branson was alone at the chauffeur's cottage while everyone else was taking part in festive celebrations made her uneasy. To hell with everything, she also had anticipated finally talking to him this evening, and she was frustrated to learn that her plans were thwarted.

Lady Sybil Crawley wasn't a person who was easily giving up, though. Lady Sybil Crawley always had a back-up plan.

 _"Branson shouldn't be denied all those treats just because he has a petty cold,"_ the young lady resolved. She decidedly grabbed a few of Mrs. Patmore's finest gingerbread cookies and swiftly left the hall.

Everyone was so preoccupied that thankfully no one noticed her departure. Mary was usually the most observant person in the room, but Sybil had an unbeliavable luck and was making her exit just as Cousin Matthew finished dancing with Gwen and made his way towards the eldest Crawley sister. There was no surer way to divert Mary's attention from what was happening around her.

* * *

Sybil had never been to the chauffeur's cottage before, but she knew very well where it was located, so she got there easily. Only when she found herself in front of the cottage's door, the young woman began to feel slightly doubtful. Maybe Branson was going to see her as an intrustion upon his peaceful solitude. On the other hand, Sybil wasn't the type of person who changed her mind on a whim, and once she resolved to do something, she usually followed her initial decision. Sometimes it took much time for her to make up her mind, but she rarely broke her resolve.

Thus, Sybil knocked on the wooden door and waited. She needed to stand in cold Decemver air for a few minutes before the door finally opened, but once she saw Branson, she knew that she had made the right decision. The young Irishman's face wore the most astonished expression she had ever seen, but at the same time he didn't even attempt to hide that he was very pleased at the sight of her.

"I just... heard from Gwen that you're not well, so I brought you some of Mrs. Patmore's gingerbread cookies... because no one should spend the day of the Servants Ball without tasting them... I hope that I'm not interrupting..." Sybil mumbled, suddenly feeling very embarrassed for a reason she could not pinpoint.

Branson sent her a wide smile. "It's very thoughtful of you, milady, not that I'm surprised... I mean, I'm surprised that you're here... but not by your kindness and thoughtfulness," he paused and gestured for her to come in, which she did without further hesitation.

Suddenly, Lady Sybil Crawley found herself alone with a young male servant in his quarters. Papa would get a heart attack if he ever learned about this.

Tom invited her to a small table which he had promptly cleared of multiple newspapers and books and put the kettle on fire to make some tea to go with the cookies that Sybil had brought.

"We don't have anything else, I'm afraid. I always eat my meals with other servants in the Servants Hall," Tom told his guest with a slightly bashful smile.

"No problem, I'm really not hungry. I've only wanted to give you a chance to eat these cookies," Sybil assured him.

"There's always next year."

This short statement made Sybil blush, though she did not understand why. "Who knows... you always say that you'll not always be a servant... Maybe next year you'll be doing something else... somewhere else."

Tom sent her a warm smile in response. "You must really believe in me... to think that I can achieve my dreams in just a year."

"Do you think that I'm naive and don't understand that leaving the service is not that easy?"asked Sybil in a slightly hurt voice.

"Not at all. I'm simply flattered that you think so highly of me," Tom replied and glanced sheepishly at his feet.

They sat motionlessly in silence for a while, each not knowing what to say next, until they were interrupted by the kettle's whistling.

Tom rushed to prepare two cups of tea and served Mrs. Patmore's cookies on the only plate that he had in the cottage.

It was the most modest Christmas meal that Sybil had ever eaten, but the most memorable one she ever had had and would ever have because something really serious was born on that evening, which was to change her future and herself forever.

Tom also opened himself to her on that evening, told her long stories about his family, his homeland and his dreams for the future.

In exchange, she was as open and honest with him as perhaps she had never been with anyone before.

She learned a lot about the world on that evening, and her eyes and heart were opened to new possibilities.

And isn't Christmas about new beginnings?

As for Tom, he quickly forgot about his runny nose and all the aching muscles because his whole attention was consumed by a person with whom he had never expected to spend Christmas evening just in two.

* * *

 _" (...) Nature by nature in unnature ends:_

 _Echoing each other like two waterfalls,_

 _Tristan, Isolde, the great friends,_

 _Make passion out of passion's obstacles;_

 _Deliciously postponing their delight,_

 _Prolong frustration till it lasts all night,_

 _Then perish lest Brangaene's worldly cry_

 _Should sober their cerebral ecstasy. (...)"_

 **W.H. Auden, _"In Sickness and in Health"_**


	2. Christmas 1919

_Time for Chapter 2. Chapter 3 will be hopefully up at the latest on Epiphany, so that the whole story will have been concluded before Christmastide's over. Happy New Year to_ **JessieBess** _! May 2016 be a joyful and lucky time for you, dear :)_

* * *

 **Dublin, Christmas 1919**

Sybil was very excited at the prospect of having a child with Tom, but she had to admit that pregnancy was sometimes terribly exhausting. When they woke up on Christmas morning, everything initially seemed fine. They stayed in bed for much longer than usual, reading some of Tom's recent articles, cuddled together and exchanging kisses between each piece. Subsequently, they had a peaceful breakfast without the usual worry that Tom might be late for work, and finally they set out for church where they were to meet the rest of the Branson clan.

It was only midway through the Mass that Sybil began to feel nauseous and pregnancy sickness started to take hold over her day.

It wasn't the first time that she experienced those symptoms, but this was her first Christmas with Tom as a married couple, which made her feel heartbroken and disappointed, and she regretted that she was pregnant for the first time. Perhaps if they had conceived a little bit later, she could have spent her first Christmas with her husband without feeling weary and aching?

To make matters worse, they had promised Mrs. Branson that they would attend her annual Christmas party, where Sybil was to be introduced to these Branson family members and friends that she still hadn't met. Tom had told Sybil multiple times how important that event was for their whole circle, and Sybil really wanted to be a part of that community. Of course, most of all, she wanted to be part of two communities and still maintain a connection with her own family and some of her friends, but she understood too well that that wouldn't be so easy, especially after her father had not attended her and Tom's wedding. Sybil hoped that he would come round one day, but was too grown-up at that time to know that this might not happen, at least not to an extent that she wished for. She chose to believe the best in her family, but was well aware that the outcome might be the opposite.

As such, they needed to focus on gaining acceptance in Dublin at that moment. They had decided not to make any mystery out of Sybil's background because it would come out later anyway and it was best to fight for full acceptance from the start. Sybil had to give up her old friends, so it was high time to make new ones.

The new Mrs. Branson hoped that all her ailments would pass before Mrs. Branson's party, but there was no improvement of her condition. She knew that no matter how hard she would try to force heself to go, she was too weak and vomited too often to attend the event without terrible discomfort and causing a disruption. The only sensible course of action was to stay at home and spend Christmas day dividing her time between the bathroom and her and Tom's bed. She didn't, however, wanted to deprive Tom of his family's and friends' company. She knew very well that Tom had not seen many of them for years and was very much looking forward to renewing their bonds. The young woman resolved that she would tell Tom to go without her; she expected that he would insist on staying with her, but Sybil was determined not to prevent him from participating in an event that was of such great importance to him.

She was awoken from her reverie by the sound of her husband's footsteps - Tom had finished eating his dinner in the kitchen and came to see his poor wife, who had been unable to consume anything.

"How are you, love?" Tom enquired as he approached the bed and sat on the side nearest to Sybil. "I've brought you some biscuits and water, I know that it's not a proper Christmas meal, but I'm afraid this is the only kind of food and drink that your stomach can muster."

Sybil smiled weakly at him, relishing in his caring personality, before asserting, "Put it on the nightstand. I don't think that I'm ready to eat anything yet, but I'll for sure try in an hour or so. "

Tom's face wore now an even more worried expression than when he had entered the room, but he decided not to say anything and simply took his wife's hand in his in order to squeeze it comfortingly.

They sat in silence for a while before Sybil spoke, "Tom, you need to go to your mother's Christmas party. You shouldn't just give up on it because of me."

Her words startled Tom. "Sybil, you must be joking. How can I leave you in such a condition?"

"You know very well that it is nothing abnormal or dangerous. I won't die if you're not with me for just a few hours."

Tom gave her a small, tender smile in response and reached out to gently embrace his beloved. "Sybil, darling, what vow did I take on our wedding day? Didn't I promise that I would be with you in sickness and in health?"

"Yes, you did. But you won't be abandon me if you leave me at home for just one evening. I can manage," Sybil tried to convince and assure him of what she thought was right.

"But darling, I take all my vows very seriously. Didn't I promise you once that I'd wait forever? You saw that I was well on the way to fulfil this oath," Tom teased his still newlywed wife.

Sybil chuckled. "I can't quarrel with that. It's pure truth, but still... you haven't seen some of these people in a long time..."

"And I have NEVER spent a Christmas day with my wife before. Yes, we did steal some moments during previous Christmases, but it's not the same. Now we don't need to hide and always have that fear in the back of our minds that someone might discover us. Now we don't need to part in the evening, but I'll be able to fall asleep with you in my arms. It is important for me, and I don't want to miss it. '

Sybil coughed softly to hide that she was moved by her husband's words. "Tom, I do feel the same, but I don't want to put a wedge between you and your family."

"You won't. We live in Dublin now, there'll be plenty of time to meet all the people that are close to me in due time. What's more, they would never forgive me if I left a pregnant woman alone and something happened to her. What if you fainted and hit you head?"

Sybil couldn't deny the truth behind his words. Not only did her heart want Tom desperately to stay, but yes, there was also no use in opposing Tom's more pragmatic arguments. She smiled at her darling husband and leant into a kiss.

"Do I take it as a yes? Tom enquired as they parted.

Sybil merely took his hand into hers and squeezed it affectionately. Tom understood what she meant without further exchange of words.

* * *

They did not have have many activities to choose from since it was best for Sybil to stay in bed. Though truth be told, Tom felt pretty relieved to be able to stay in bed for most of the day because he really needed some proper rest from the usual busy working days. Firstly, Sybil showed Tom a letter that she had received from Gwen before Christmas. Tom was happy to hear that their friend was advancing in her career, and Sybil made a decision to bake gingebread cookies based on the recipe that Gwen recommended to her in the letter.

"I only need to feel better to stand in the kitchen for so long," Sybil bemoaned her unhappy situation.

"You know very well that I'll help you. As you're well aware of, I'm not helpless in the kitchen, and I think that I can tackle gingerbread cookies quite well," Tom suggested with a wide grin on his face.

Sybil accepted the offer with a grateful smile.

Then they needed to decide what to do for the rest of the evening.

Since they had read together all of Tom's recent articles in the morning, they opted for fiction that time. They chose to re-read James Joyce's _Dubliners_ , one of their favourite books, which Tom had recommended to Sybil back when he had been a chauffeur and his wife one of the ladies of the house.

"I would like to re-read it now that I live in Dublin. It'll be interesting to read about the places that I've been to myself"," Sybil justified her choice.

"Excellent idea. I want to hear your opinions also now that you've visitied some parts of my hometown," Tom promptly agreed.

Thus, they again lay embraced and devoured stories together, at the same time exchanging reactions, views or even completely loose comments.

The young cuple didn't have time to read the whole book, so they only focused on their favourites stories. Ultimately, they started reading the story that both of them liked most - _"The Dead"._

"I love how it's centered around a traditional Irish party set during Christmastide," remarked Tom contemplatively.

"Well, at least I'm reminded of what I've yet to experience," replied Sybil in a similarly thoughtful tone.

"Yes, my sweet. Drunken neighbours, curious aunts and acquaintances asking you about your political inclinations and determining how much of a patriot you are."

Sybil chuckled softly. "You know... that's not so different from parties at Downton. Everyone there just seems... pretending that it's not what they're doing. But they do."

Tom simply nodded and placed a small kiss on her forehead.

It was Sybil who resumed the conversation again. "At first glance, that Gabriel Conroy guy reminds me of you a bit. He writes for a paper, he married a woman his family didn't approve of at first..."

A smug grin appeared on Tom's face. "I love how you said _at first glance_ , my darling. Because despite this superficial similarities, we're very different people underneath."

"Well, he doesn't seem to be as interested in the Irish cause as you and writes for conservative papers, which are more pro-English. That's definitely not like you."

Tom mused for a bit before answering, "I didn't only mean that. I meant.., well, I feel keenly, as you know my darling. I feel strongly about my country and ideas for once, yes... but I also feel strongly when it comes to people that are close to me. I identify more with Mrs. Conroy's former lover because it would be so like me to walk in rain just to see you and then get sick and die, as funny as it may sound."

Sybil reflected on that for a moment. "Well, your waiting for me for so long at Downton was pretty unreasonable... you could have gone to Ireland earlier and already changed your job and started your life out of service... you could have started so much sooner..."

"I don't regret this, love, not in the slightest. Actually, from a pragmatic point of view, your coming here to marry me is just as unreasonable."

Sybil giggled and kissed Tom's cheek fondly. "Because what's the point of living if you don't feel strongly?"

"None, and that's the point. In my interpretation of the story, at least. I love this line: _their children, his writing, her household cares had not quenched all their souls' tender fire._ Yes, I know that Conroy later realises that he's actually emotionally restrained and pretty much spiritually dead, but for us let us it be true forever," Tom murmured as he took Sybil in his arms again and nuzzled her hair lovingly.

"Should I take it as another promise?," Sybil whispered into her husband's ear.

"Yes."

"I know that you're good when it comes to keeping promises, so I trust you."

"I know you do. And judging by all that's happening now, difficult times are ahead of us, but I'm sure we'll weather all the storms together and be always as much in love as we're now."

* * *

 _(..) Dear, all benevolence of fingering lips_

 _That does not ask forgiveness is a noise_

 _At drunken feasts where Sorrow strips_

 _To serve some glittering generalities:_

 _Now, more than ever, we distinctly hear_

 _The dreadful shuffle of a murderous year_

 _And all our senses roaring as the Black_

 _Dog leaps upon the individual back. (...)_

 **W.H. Auden _, In Sickness and in Health_**


	3. Christmas 1920

_The final installment is up and the twelve days of Christmas are over! As always, this chapter was written for and is dedicated to_ **JessieBess _._**

* * *

 **Downton Abbey, 1920**

It was the first snow of the year, and Sybil wanted to treasure this sight. Having been brought up in England and then having lived in Dublin had made her value snow as something unique, which was granted only on special occasions in an almost magical way.

At that moment she was looking from the nursery window at twirling snowflakes that were courageously resisting gravity, which wanted to bring them to the ground, before eventually giving in and joining their predecessors on a frost-covered earth.

The young Mrs. Branson had just finished feeding Sybbie and was trying to lull the little one to sleep. Sybbie had caught a flu a week earlier; at that moment the hardest time was thankfully behind them, and the little girl was almost fully recovered.

Sybil heard a knock on the door and looked around to see who it was. As she suspected, it was her husband, who wore an anxious expression on his face .

"How is she?" he asked worriedly.

Sybil gave him a faint smile. "You know that she's all right now. But I understood why are you so nervous... so am I. After all, it's her first illness..."

"Exactly, my darling. I still can't comprehend how beautiful she is," Tom smiled tenderly and reached out to stroke Sybbie's small clump of hair.

Sybil stayed silent; she only gave her beloved one more smile, this time more radiant and less anxious.

There was another knock on the door. The Bransons immediately assumed that it was their daughter's new nanny.

Truth be told, they hadn't wanted to hire a nanny at all and had won the battle just to hear Lord Grantham bring the idea back when Sybbie had got ill. They had had more important things to worry about then than to quarrel with Sybil's father for _yet another_ time and an additional pair of hands to take care of a sick baby hadn't been really a bad idea, so they had ultimately surrendered.

However, when Sybbie had begun to feel better, the Bransons had wished to dismiss the nanny, but had felt uncomfortable about depriving the poor woman of her work after such a short time, especially since she was a hard worker and was very good with Sybbie. Finally, they had decided for a compromise and kept her on more as a part-time help; sometimes she was free of her duties even without Lord Grantham's knowledge. Sybil and Tom hoped that Mary would get pregnant soon (and she and Matthew really kept trying, so it was practically certain to happen sooner than later), which would release them of the need to provide employment to Miss Henderson themselves.

But it wasn't Miss Henderson this time. The person who stood in the doorway was Cora Crawley, and the expression on her face informed the young parents that something clearly troubled her.

"Sybil, Tom, I'm afraid that you've forgotten that we're attending the Cartrights' Christmas party tonight. I talked to Miss Henderson downstairs and she was completely unaware that she would have to stay alone with Sybbie tonight."

Both of the Bransons looked at each other nervously.

"Mama... yes, we've forgotten," Sybil began ,"so many things happened in the last few days... we obviously had other things on our minds..."

"I understand," Cora interjected, "but now that I've reminded you of this engagement, can't you begin preparing for the dinner? Miss Henderson will be here in a moment, I informed her about everything..."

"NO!" Sybil and Tom exclaimed in unison.

"Mama, you must understand us - Sybbie is still recovering from flu, and we just can't leave her."

Lady Grantham's gave a small sigh. "I do understand you. I'm a mother myself, after all. But Sybbie is in no danger now and Miss Henderson always take care of her very well. It's an important event for you - your first appearance as guests in one of our friends' houses after your wedding. It's a big thing that the Cartrights invited you... As such, it's important to your Papa, and I'm afraid that he may find you both overprotective."

It was Tom's turn to speak. "Lady Grantham..."

"Cora."

"Cora... I 'm sure that I'm speaking for both of us here... It's our first Christmas as a family and with our little Sybbie, so we would really wish not to be separated on this day, and Sybbie's recent illness makes us even more insistent on that score."

"Mama, I agree with everything that Tom said," Sybil quickly supported her husband.

Cora sighed again. "Again, I understand. But I don't want any tensions between your father and you two again. He'll not understand this. He will tell you that Sybbie doesn't know that you're here anyway. I'm afraid that children do not exist for him properly until they are able to answer back."

Sybil and Tom looked at each other briefly and nodded in mutual understanding. "We'll risk Papa being grumpy. And it's our final decision."

* * *

It was so deliciously quiet; a silent night indeed. The snow stopped falling, and the nature's winter painting was complete. Sybil and Tom sat on the sofa in the nursery, embraced, and relished in watching Sybbie breathe healthily in a sound sleep. It was such a relief that the two of them couldn't remember when they had been happier.

Sybil was the first one to break the silence. "I know that it's silly, but I keep thinking that I wouldn't mind to spend all of our future Christmases this way. I've been thinking about the time when Sybbie grows up, and this scares me for a reason I cannot name. I want her to be safe, healthy and happy, and I worry everyday that something may go wrong."

Tom took her hands in his. "Me too. She looks so helpless right now... but I know for sure that with you as her mother she'll grow into a strong woman who will face all the challenges bravely... and that's most important, isn't it?"

His wife nodded contemplatively. "God willing, she'll have luck on her side."

"That's something we can't predict, but we may give her a good start into the future."

Sybil suddenly tensed. "Tom, if you allude to your job or lack thereof again... It doesn't make you any less of a husband or a father. Your support and love is what counts most."

Tom chuckled and kissed her forehead. "I know, love. You've told me that multiple times, and I do agree with you. But there's something that you must know..."

 _Tom didn't want to admit it, but he began to feel quite depressed and hopeless. Frankly, his two precious women were the only things that kept him from wallowing in despair. He was unemployed for six months, living on his in-laws' money at the house that symbolised everything that he was against, and on that day yet another visit to London proved fruitless. And it was all his fault. It was already December, and soon he would enter New Year without a job, without his own home and, worst of all, without any prospects of changing his situation. Last year he had been happy - he and Sybil had been expecting their first child, they had had led an independent life in Ireland and he had had a job that maybe hadn't brought him a lot of money, but at least a sense of satisfaction and an ability to do something important._

 _He sipped his coffee, which to him tasted more like a tonic water even though he had put a lot of sugar into it. In his sour mood, he even noted sadly that there was still no snow that year. Damn it._

 _"Can I sit with you for a moment?" Tom suddenly heard a female voice._

 _He looked up from his cup and noticed a red-haired woman in a green cloak, who smiled at him in a familiar manner._

 _"Oh my goodness! Gwen! I haven't seen you for..."_

 _"Six years, I know," replied his long-time-no-see friend._

 _"Of course you can sit with me! Nothing will make me happier than this at the moment," Tom invited her without a delay._

 _They chatted for a bit about everything that had happened in their lives since they parted in 1914. They were both acquainted with basic facts due to Sybil and Gwen's correspondence, but it was nice to exchange the details as well. Tom didn't even hide from Gwen his current frustrations and difficulties concerned with his job search._

 _"Tom, you've always been such a talented man. There must be an opening for you somewhere... actually... I think that there may someone that you should contact. You know that I've started working for the government recently, and there is one man from a paper that comes to us quite often. They want to be a political newspaper, but they've been only recently established. It won't be a lot of money in the beginning, but I think they have potential. They're not located in Yorkshire, though; their office is here at London, I think."_

 _Tom's eyes lit up with a small glimmer of hope. He knew that he shouldn't get excited, but every opportunity seemed to him like a faint promise of something new. "Sybil and I don't mind moving to London, Gwen. Can you get me in touch me with this man?"_

Sybil 's eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. "And why do you tell me about this today? Do you have any good news?"

Tom looked lovingly at his wife, whose whole person looked as if she had been inwardly bouncing with excitement. Thank goodness that he didn't have to disappoint her!

"Yes, darling. I've got a job. I didn't tell you before because I hoped to present this piece of news to you today as one of your Christmas gifts. Now we can look for a flat to rent and plan our new life together."

The young woman's eyes welled up with tears of joy. "I can't express how happy this makes , Tom. Of course I want to move out of my parents' house, but I'm also tremendeously happy that you can follow your dreams again."

"And who would we be without dreams?" Tom asked merrily as he took his wife in his arms again and kissed her passionately on the mouth.

When they parted, the Irishman unexpectly rose from the sofa and approached a chest of drawers that stood in the corner of the nursery. He opened one of the drawers and took out of it a bottle of champagne and a small cardboard box.

"I knew that we would spend Christmas here with Sybbie, so I allowed myself to make some small preparations..."

"Champagne I get, even though it's more a New Year's Eve type of drink, but what's in this box?"

"A gift from Gwen," Tom informed his wife gleefully. "Open it."

With those words, Tom handed the package to Sybil, who immediately removed the cover. Inside were... gingerbread cookies, based on the same recipe that Gwen had sent her friend a year ago!

"She gave me this when I met her at the cafe. She made several boxes for her friends, she didn't have one prepared for us because she didn't expect to meet us anytime soon... but when we bumped into each other in London, she decided that she couldn't pass such an opportunity... don't worry, she assured me that she would make one more later, so no one got shafted."

Sybil looked at the box in her hands silently, deeply lost in thoughts. "Do you remember?" she enquired quietly after some time.

Tom didn't have to ask what she meant. He simply knew. "Yes. We ate gingerbread cookies together during our first Christmas together."

Sybil reached out for his hand affectionaly. "And look, Tom, how far we've got. Tell me that dreams do not come true."

"It wasn't easy though, love. Even after we got married, there was this horrible war, and my banishment, and your hard labour, and my latest lack of job..."

The young Mrs. Branson pressed his hand even harder, firmly but lovingly. "What counts is that we've faced these challenges together and we still do. We can look forward to the future hopefully, and this is the only thing that matters."

Tom took Sybil's hand into his and pressed an adoring kiss to her hand, and Sybil's understood that he fully agreed with her sentiments.

Their tender moment was interrupted by a loud cry coming from the crib. Sybbie had awoken and demanded her parents' attention.

Both Sybil and Tom approached the crib, and Tom gently handed his little princess to his wife. Once safe and warm in her mother's arms, Sybbie calmed down and only looked at her parents with curious eyes. Tom observed his women for a moment before strong feelings overwhelmed him and he moved to gently embrace both of them.

"I love you both and I'll never leave you," Sybil and Tom said at almost exactly the same moment.

And outside the snow began to fall again, thus promising that its presence was not just a swiftly passing gift.

* * *

 _(..) Lest, blurring with old moonlight of romance_

 _The landscape of our blemishes, we try_

 _To set up shop on Goodwin Sands,_

 _That we, though lovers, may love soberly,_

 _O Fate, O Felix Osculum, to us_

 _Remain nocturnal and mysterious:_

 _Preserve us from presumption and delay;_

 _O hold us to the voluntary way._

 **W.H. Auden, _In Sickness and in Health_**


End file.
